


Centerfold

by Rebldomakr



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Steve Harrington, Alpha Tommy H., Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Drabble, Hinted Parent/Child Relationship, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Omega Billy Hargrove, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Omegas smell differently than Alphas, and different from each other. They smell by feelings when they sniff someone out.





	Centerfold

**Author's Note:**

> unbeated

**Centerfold**

Steve Harrington smells like gasoline and exhaust. Sometimes, he doesn’t. Sometimes he smells like copper and Billy’s got a nose full of pennies, ready to get closer and jam up another handful into his nostrils.  Sometimes he smells like meat’s that’s gone bad and it makes Billy’s stomach turn to caramel, like the stuff that’s dunked into chocolate and he really wanted to be bitten into like he’s the chocolate. He’s desperate for his caramel guts to ooze out, if it’s by the doing of Steve’s teeth.

He hears girls whisper than Steve smells like lavender, like coconut, like cherries, or even green apples. Sweet things that become candle scents. Warm things, soft things. Things that make them go like caramel.

But Omegas always smell different things. They smell what they want, if they want what they’re smelling. Or whatever weird subconscious mindfuck they do.

It’s Billy’s fault that Steve smells like death and car grease. It’s what makes his dick – that stupid, useless thing – twitch and his hole clench.

Tommy smells, okay.

Tommy smells more like the outdoors do when it’s cold and it’s raining. Or, like the inside of a steel building with a cement floor.

It’s not as good as Steve. It’s still good. Better than the other Alphas that walk the hallways.

Billy’s nails rip into the skin of Tommy’s shoulders and he snarls into their kiss. Tommy’s knot stretching him out, caught more on his rim than it is inside of him. But Tommy pushes it in the rest of the way. It’s too late, he’s at least a little torn. The press of the knot, now inside, makes Billy lessen the strength in his grip. His body sags, his eyes close. His dick oozes out clear ejaculate.

“What do I smell like today?” Tommy asks, too hot breath washing over Billy’s ear.

That’s a question that requires too much thinking. Billy doesn’t want to do that. He takes a while to answer it, trying more to savor the internal stretch and the full-feeling.

“Like,” Billy licks his lips. “Little bit like the smoke off a grill.”

“Is that better or worse than yesterday?” Tommy asks yet another question. Stupid Alpha. “I feel like smoke off a grill is better than wet paint.”

Billy takes even longer to answer this one. Tommy’s coming a lot today.

“I think, better.” Billy lies.

Because smoke off a grill is a nice summer memory, but wet paint is the pride when he made his bedroom walls war red.

Tommy had beaten up someone yesterday. Another Alpha, obviously. Billy can’t even remember the other’s name. He remembers the blood on Tommy’s fists, though.

Billy curls his fingers into Tommy’s hair when that dumb, dumb Alpha asks another fucking question. Jesus Christ.

“What did Steve smell like today?” Tommy presses his lips against Billy’s jawbone like he knows he shouldn’t have asked.

Well, he wants to know.

“Steve smelt like gas in gym.” Billy says. “But he smelt like whiskey during lunch.” When he pushed Steve out of the way and Steve reacted, shoved back. He smelt like whiskey on his dad’s exhale.

Billy’s a little ashamed that it got him wet.

Not really, that ashamed, though.

“I’m still not better than gas.” Tommy murmurs.

“No.” Billy responds, honest. He can give honesty.

He can’t give much else.

Billy’s dad smells like clean carpet when he comes home, but he’s got whiskey coming out of his mouth when he talks.

“Hanging out with that Alpha, still?” Dad asks.

“We’re dating.” Billy says.

Dad looks at him because he knows Billy’s lying. “Go to bed.” He says. “I’ll tuck you in, tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Billy says.


End file.
